Les Mis Meets Back to the Future
by LesMisLoony
Summary: COMPLETE! Doctor Emmett Brown takes a visit to Paris and makes trouble for Cosette. Or does Cosette make trouble for him? PG for lovely ladies and mild violence.
1. The Luxembourg Clocktower

Disclaimer - I do not own Cosette, Jean Valjean, Doctor Emmett Brown, Fantine, Marius, Toussaint, or Javert. However, I will take credit for the constables, the old man, his son, and the Polish Terrorists.  
  
A/N- there will be some mild violence and lovely lady-ing, but not enough to scare away all the kiddies  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
"Save the clock tower? Save the clock tower!" cried the crone of the Luxembourg garden. She held a handful of papers that all read the same thing in one hand and a small sack in the other. "Pardon me, ma chère, but will you give a sou to save the clock tower?"  
  
"Sorry, but-"  
  
"Mademoiselle, a bolt of lightning struck that tower in 1823, and it has never worked since, but it is still an important landmark of the Luxembourg gardens! And just because it is broken the king wants it torn down! Have a heart, mademoiselle!"  
  
The crone handed the young lady a paper, but noticed that she seemed to be distracted by something in the distance. Realizing she had lost her audience, the old woman hobbled away.  
  
But our focus remains on the bench with the young woman. She saw someone approaching from across the garden and smiled radiantly. It was an extremely handsome young man wearing his best suit.  
  
"Mademoiselle," he began, "I have watched you for some tome now. I hope you do not think it wrong of me. I have wished to speak with you, to tell you - Mon Dieu! I do not even know your name!"  
  
He sank onto the bench next to her. "My name is Marius Pontmercy."  
  
She smiled. "And mine's Cosette."  
  
"Cosette," he sighed, "I don't know what to say!"  
  
A/N - I would enjoy going on like this for a while, but seeing as you probably know this song by heart already, I'll just stop quoting and move on with my story.  
  
"But every time I have seen you here, you have been with your father. Where is he? Not ill, I hope?"  
  
"No, nothing like that. Something . . . happened yesterday. I am not sure what, but he insisted that someone was outside. He is afraid of this man and told me to walk alone today," Cosette replied. "I am a little worried for . . ."  
  
She trailed off, for she heard Toussaint calling her name. "Marius, you must leave. Toussaint will be here in a moment to escort me home-"  
  
Marius took the paper she was holding and pulled a pen and container of ink from his pocket.  
  
"You keep a pen and ink in your pocket?" Cosette asked.  
  
"Of course. Don't you?"  
  
He scribbled down these words on the paper about the clock tower:  
  
Je t'aime! No. 50-52  
  
And then he was gone. Toussaint came huffing and puffing over the hill. "M- m- mademoiselle!"  
  
Cosette sighed. 


	2. Son Histoire

A/N - I have destroyed the plot of Hugo's magnificent novel, but I did it listening to the musical, so they cancel each other out. Pardonnez-moi, mes amis.  
  
Disclaimer - Don't own it, none of it but the Polish terrorists and random bystanders.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
When she arrived home, a letter awaited her from her elderly friend Monsieur Emmet Brown, an eccentric American:  
  
Chère Cosette,  
  
Meet me at the courtyard de Deux Arbres tonight. I have something to show you.  
  
Doctor Emmet Brown  
  
Cosette knew that her father would never approve her leaving the house at night. She would have to sneak out. She sighed. Perhaps if she had a mother to help raise her, her father would not be so overprotective.  
  
At that, her father entered the room.  
  
Cosette watched his face as he asked how the park was. He could not be as old as he looked. His hair was white, and he had care lines throughout his face. Ignoring his question, Cosette asked the one that had been on her mind for as long as she could remember.  
  
"Papa, where is ma mère?"  
  
Her father sighed. "Cosette, ma fille, I have told you not to mention her name. She was a saint."  
  
Cosette did not really expect him to answer the question, but to refuse it so flatly was a surprise. To her shame, she felt tears gathering in her eyes. She looked down at the table and blinked, but her papa saw.  
  
"Cosette-" he began, but at the moment a footstep was heard below the window.  
  
With surprising agility, Ultime Fauchelevant dove to the ground, pulling Cosette with him. "Toussaint," he hissed, "go see who that is!"  
  
"Y-yes, m'sieur."  
  
A moment later Toussaint called from the door, "'Tis only a g-gamin, m'sieur. A little b-boy throwing rocks at p-p-passersby."  
  
Fauchelevant slowly got to his feet. "I was afraid it was Javert come for me," he whispered.  
  
"Who is this Javert, Papa? Please, tell me! I beg you!"  
  
The tears came again, and this time Cosette made no attempt to stop them.  
  
Fauchelevant was helplessly moved by her tears. "Cosette, please, ma biche, don't cry. Come now."  
  
A/N - In case you aren't a Francophone or anything, "biche" means darling, not what it looks like.  
  
But Cosette could not stop. "Just tell me, Papa! You have no reason not to! I am almost a woman now; I deserve to know what this is about. Who is Javert? Who was my mother? Who are you?"  
  
Fauchelevant collapsed into a chair.  
  
"I was afraid this day would come. I want to protect you, but I don't want you to be miserable."  
  
"Papa, I am miserable. Just tell me!"  
  
Fauchelevant paused. Finally, he sighed. "Alright Cosette, here it is. I won't tell you all, for it is still not safe to finish the story."  
  
He sighed, then began:  
  
"Your mother was a good woman, a saint. She did everything she could for you - and I mean everything. She was unjustly arrested by Javert, and I insisted that he release her. She was horribly sick, and her last wish was that I raise you like a proper girl. I have tried, but Javert never forgave me for freeing your mother. I have lived in fear of him these past years, thus your sheltered childhood. I will not say more now."  
  
Cosette smiled. "I understand, Papa."  
  
She kissed him on the cheek and headed upstairs to change for dinner.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Whatcha think? Pleeeeease review! 


	3. Deux Arbres

A/N - Thank you for reviewing! Yay, my story is loved!  
  
La Pamplemousse - Yes, I do quite a good job of recreating the 98 movie, don't I? Muahahahaha! I even got the collapsing into the chair! Not to . . . uh . . . bring back horrible memories of that movie or anything ::eye twitches:: I promise Valjean will not smack Cosette.  
  
Winter-Lady - Glad you appreciate my author's note. My mom was walking by as I typed "biche," and she got a little worried about me. So, I typed the author's note to make her stop staring.  
  
Thanks so much to the other reviewers. Sorry about the name switch out. I /do/ know Valjean's Fauchelevant name, but I wrote that chapter while doing my biology homework. (I've changed it.)  
  
Disclaimer- If I could have any of this, I would take it. Okay, I'd just take the DeLorean. But I don't own it. Meh.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
The Courtyard de Deux Arbres was empty save for a large silver machine sitting right in the middle of the grass. Cosette nervously approached it, not quite sure what to expect.  
  
A hatch on the side suddenly sprang open, and Cosette jumped backwards. Doctor Brown extracted himself from the interior of the machine.  
  
"Monsieur Brown?" Cosette began.  
  
"I'll explain in a moment. Glad you could make it. You must see this!"  
  
He pointed to the machine. "This DeLorean - um, car - is a time machine."  
  
Cosette stared blankly. "It makes time?"  
  
"Um . . . no," the doc paused, "it can take you through time."  
  
"What?"  
  
"This machine can take you to see the past and the future of the world. Several years ago . . . I mean . . . um . . . at one point in my life . . . I began to dismantle it, and in doing so discovered that it did not need plutonium to run! It can run off of Polish refuse!"  
  
Cosette blinked at him. "Um . . . wonderful."  
  
Doc Brown sighed and began speaking again, apparently to himself. "I knew she couldn't fully appreciate the gravity of what I have discovered. But the only one who could was Marty, and he won't be born for another one hundred and fifty years! I don't want to make a whole trip just to show him! But maybe I should . . . no; it's too dangerous. What if I met my other self? The consequences of that could disastrous!"  
  
"Monsieur Brown? What is Polish refuse?"  
  
"Not now, Cosette. I just wanted to show you this machine that I-"  
  
Something finally clicked in Cosette's mind. "Oh! I could see the past with your DeLoreanumcar? Show me how it works, monsieur!"  
  
Doc Brown stared at Cosette for a second, then shook his head. "Depressing, really."  
  
"What is, monsieur?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing at all." He leaned back into the machine and pointed to four screens, one on top of the other. "This top screen will show your destination . . . the time you want to go to. The next screens will show the time arrived and the time departed. This fourth one is my latest addition - the location indicator."  
  
"Oh! But how do you tell it where to go?"  
  
"This keypad here," the doc pointed to a series of buttons with numbers on them, "is to enter your destination time. The new one below it," he flipped the number keypad up, "is to set your destination place."  
  
"Show me, please," Cosette implored.  
  
Doc Brown smiled and began to type on both keypads. "MONTREUIL-SUR-MER" appeared in the bottom screen, and "OCT 08 1823" flashed onto the top one. The other two remained blank.  
  
Cosette gasped. "Look at the pretty lights!"  
  
The doc chose to ignore this. "October the eighth, 1823. That was an important day in the history of my time machine. That was the day I designed the refuse receptor." He gestured toward a box on the back wall of the machine. "Then, after you enter your destination information, you press this pedal until this little dial is pointing to the fifty. It used to go higher than that, but I decided that, for the sake of the 19th century, I'd bring it down."  
  
"Monsieur Brown! Where did you get the Polish refuse?"  
  
Emmet Brown laughed smugly. "I traded a group of Polish men for a carbine. But I didn't give them any ammunition!"  
  
"Wait a second. Wouldn't a terrorist have ammunition already?"  
  
A horse whinnied from down the street. Cosette and Doc Brown heard hooves hitting the cobblestones as something approached at an unusually fast speed. A blue and white omnibus swerved into the courtyard, a Polish man leaning out the window with a carbine.  
  
The doc reached into the time machine, pulled out a small sack, and turned to face the Polish terrorists.  
  
The man fired, narrowly missing Cosette.  
  
Doc Brown whirled around. "Quick! Get in the car!"  
  
Cosette did nothing.  
  
The doc shoved her into the time machine and slammed the door after her. Another shot narrowly missed his wrist. He opened the sack and held out its contents to the terrorists - ammunition.  
  
The Polish with the gun sneered.  
  
The carbine fired repeatedly, and the doc fell.  
  
"NO!" Cosette screamed from inside the machine. "You bad men!"  
  
The terrorists opened fire on the time machine. Panicked, Cosette began to press buttons and stomp on pedals. The machine jerked into motion.  
  
The Polish terrorists stared as the silver machine began to roll across the courtyard, picking up speed every inch of the way. Coming to, one began to whip the horses.  
  
Seeing that the omnibus was following her, Cosette pushed her foot harder against the pedal. The machine went even faster. Trees and bushes became a blur as the courtyard flew past the windows of the DeLorean.  
  
One of the little things in front of her was moving. Cosette watched, amused, as the little needle climbed up until it pointed straight upward.  
  
There was a flash of light and Cosette was speeding through a dead cornfield. Ahead of her was an old barn. She didn't know how to make the machine stop. The barn was only inches away. She was going to wreck.  
  
The car flew through the open doors of the barn and landed in a large pile of hay. The door flew open.  
  
Cosette climbed out of the car, looked down at herself, and screamed. 


	4. 1823

A/N - I don't know what dialect Père Fauchelevant used, but I thought it would be fun to type in cockney for a bit, so that's how he talks now. If you have a problem, call me at 1-800-CHARTER. Leave a message.  
  
Tattered sparrow - I don't think I've ever seen a DeLorean in person before. But I do keep telling my mom I want one. And she roooolls her eyes and says "Erin, I don't think you're even going to /get/ a car."  
  
FreakyFairy - here ya go. Have you never seen Back to the Future, you poor, poor dear?  
  
Sweet775 - Read "Bobette"! I wrote it, and it stars Cosette, and she locks Marius in the cellar! Okay, that was her twin sister, Bobette. Oh, and it has Parnasse in it. God, I love that man.  
  
Ai-Ai - Better than the real Back to the Future? Wow. High, high praise. I thank you.  
  
Disclaimer - Well, I don't own anything but the Polish terrorists. Wait, I own the location indicator and the whole Polish refuse idea! YAY! And you know what else? There's a marathon of Family Ties, the show starring Michael J. Fox, on TV Land, and my dad won't let me watch it because he has to watch some Army-Navy Football game. ARGH!  
  
*Takes deep breath*  
  
I'm okay, I promise.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Cosette climbed out of the car, looked down at herself, and screamed.  
  
Her dress was torn and dirty!  
  
Frantically, she tried to brush off some of the dirt, but even if she had been able to wash the dress it would not have been able to get the awful tears out. The lace that had lain on her shoulders and around her collar had been ripped off when she climbed out of the car and now was hanging limply from the door. She glared at it, then turned away.  
  
Cosette wandered out into the dead cornfield and towards the nearest road, following the path of destruction the car had made. In the distance she could see the glow of streetlights. She must be somewhere near civilization.  
  
It was a cold night. When Cosette had been in Paris, it had been April, and the weather had been much warmer. Her shoulders had been bared when the lace had torn from her dress, and now she was getting horribly cold.  
  
When Cosette finally staggered into town, the first people she saw were a group of suggestively-dressed women. Leering at male passersby, the ladies made rude gestures and cried obscene things. Cosette flushed to hear it.  
  
She knew who these women were. Once, when she had stood in the garden of her house in the Rue Plumet, a handsome young lieutenant had taken to flirting with her. He called himself Théodule, but called her several things she had not understood. When asked to explain what a "lovely lady" was, Théodule came up with even more things Cosette had never heard of. Again she asked him to explain. Thus Cosette Fauchelevant learned about the birds and the bees.  
  
At the time she had not believed Théodule, but here was her proof.  
  
That was when Cosette noticed another woman standing in the shadows.  
  
She had once been beautiful, but her blonde hair was cut short and her front teeth were missing. She was even thinner than the other prostitutes, and stood a distance away from them, quietly enduring the snide remarks of gentlemen passing by. Great troubles had hollowed out her cheeks, and she let out a horrible cough from time to time. Cosette was moved to pity this woman who had even been shunned by whores.  
  
Cosette was not aware how long the journey from the old barn had taken until she saw the sky lightening to the east. The group of women on the other side of the street also saw this, sighed, and turned to go home. Cosette had been leaning against a cart when suddenly a man's voice spoke directly behind her.  
  
"I'll 'ave none o' your type sellin' outside my place, y'hear? Go on! Go!"  
  
Cosette whirled around, panicked. "What do you mean, monsieur?"  
  
"You know jus' what I mean, miss. You'll be solicitin' them types o' men to my part o' th' town. Call th' cognes on you, b'God I will!"  
  
Cosette's eyes widened in fear. "Monsieur, I was just-"  
  
He grabbed her wrist rudely. "I know th' type. Bare shoulders, tatt'red clothes, showing yer ankles t' th'whole town. Well, I won't 'ave it, b'God!"  
  
"Père."  
  
This word was spoken by another man standing a few feet away, just out of Cosette's line of vision.  
  
"Monsieur le maire!" cried the cart owner, stunned.  
  
He released Cosette's wrist. She glared at him, then turned to thank the man who had rescued her.  
  
She gasped.  
  
The mayor spoke calmly to her. "I am sure, my child, that you were not the type of lady that monsieur assumed you to be. For those women always clear out at the first sign of dawn."  
  
Cosette was frozen to the spot. "Monsieur . . . Fauchelevant?" she asked.  
  
For indeed, the man who stood before her was her own father, Ultime Fauchelevant. He was younger, his hair dark, but it was unmistakably him.  
  
Yet he did not seem to recognize his own name.  
  
"Fauchelevant? No, mademoiselle, that would be Père Fauchelevant, the man standing behind you."  
  
Cosette slowly turned to the man leaning against the cart. He scowled at her. He was certainly not her father. This Fauchelevant was old, and apparently crippled. His cart was broken and there was no sign of a horse anywhere. Cosette turned back to her father.  
  
The mayor smiled at the older man. "I have made contact with the convent on the Petit Rue Picpus. The nuns have agreed to take you on as a gardener."  
  
The other Fauchelevant bowed until he was bent quite in half. Cosette was afraid that, what with his crippled leg, he would fall right onto the pavement.  
  
"Please," the mayor said calmly, "stand. I am not a king or . . . " he paused for a few seconds, staring into the distance, "or a bishop," he finished so quietly that Cosette had to strain to hear. Turning back to Cosette, he pressed a gold coin into her hand. "God has not abandoned you. I, Père Madeleine, am only his humble servant. Take this and use it to begin another story," he murmured.  
  
A/N - Murmured is one groovy word. Groovy. That's a groovy word too. Hee hee. Oh, and you know what? I saw a few seconds of an episode of Family Ties! And Michael J Fox! And it was his 18th birthday, and he was being all snotty about it, and he went to this restaurant and told these foreign girls he was a general or something, and his mom showed up. But the point here is, is that one of the boys who was at the table with him and the foreign girls was (dum da da-dum!) George McFly! OMIGOSH, right? And he said to Michael J Fox's mom "Don't tell my mother I was here." EEP! Okay, sorry, back to the fic.  
  
Madeleine turned and walked away.  
  
"Wait, monsieur . . . um . . . le maire?"  
  
"Yes, mon enfant?"  
  
"Do you know of an Emmett Brown, an American, living here? He has really . . . pouffy . . . white hair?"  
  
The mayor thought for a moment. "Ah, yes!" He exclaimed suddenly. "Doctor Emmett Brown! He lives in a house with a large old barn down the road," Madeleine said, pointing in the very direction from which Cosette had come.  
  
"With . . . a cornfield?"  
  
"Yes, that's the one. Good luck, mademoiselle."  
  
Cosette raised an eyebrow. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike Madeleine. He looked at her bare shoulders and tattered dress, glanced in the direction of the barn, and suddenly turned a violent shade of crimson. "I do apologize. I did not mean that to be . . . well . . . "  
  
He trailed off. Cosette just thanked him again for the directions and set off in the way she had come. 


	5. What the Heck is Doc Brown Doing Here An...

A/N - Reviewers, I thank thee.  
  
La Pamplemousse - Wow, I haven't seen that movie in forever and ever.  
  
Sweet775 - I love Emmet Brown. I dunno why. He's just so **** cool. And that transparent tie he wears in the second movie . . . just makes me wanna write a fic about him and his hair. *pouf*  
  
Elyse3 - Okay, this doesn't count as soon, but . . . close enough?  
  
Freakyfairy - Ahh! Go rent it now! You haven't lived till you've seen Marty Mc - I mean Back to the Future. Yeah. That's what I mean.  
  
Disclaimer - We all know that I don't own Back to the Future (sadly). And poor, poor, poor Michael J. Fox has Parkinson's Disease. *Sob* Excuse me . . . Talk amongst yourselves. *Bursts into tears*  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
When Cosette arrived at the barn, she found Doctor Brown standing over the time machine, rather confused.  
  
"Monsieur?"  
  
"Hmm? Ah. Hello there. I am afraid I won't be needing your services. Run along now, go on."  
  
Cosette looked at her torn dress and bared shoulders. "No sir, that isn't what I'm here for. You see, you sent me here in that machine. It's-"  
  
"My time machine, I know. But I had hoped I wouldn't be in Montreuil-sur- Mer this long. They called me crazy, Mademoiselle, but I was sure it was true. I knew that it wasn't just a wonderful book. It had to be true, all of it."  
  
"Monsieur? I am from the year 1832. I live in Paris, and I need to get back there before tomorrow."  
  
"And why are you in such a hurry, mademoiselle?"  
  
"Well . . ." Cosette flushed. "I spoke with a young man the other day, a Monsieur Marius Po-"  
  
"Marius Pontmercy? Great Scott!" cried Doc Brown. "I told them, yes, I told them that even Victor Hugo could not have conceived a story so real, so . . ." he trailed off.  
  
"Monsieur?"  
  
"I am sorry. You are Cosette, of course. You say that you do indeed live in Paris? Wonderful! My location indicator is a success. Tell me, did you set out from Paris? But why did I send you here? Of course, if I met my future self it could cause a major paradox! I assume I wrote myself a note?"  
  
Cosette blinked and cleared her throat. "Ah . . . I set out from Paris, you didn't send me, and you did not send a note. It was an accident. You see, you-"  
  
"How could I have been so careless? Of course! It was the Libyans, right? I can't believe I would try to trick the Libyan terrorists again! Especially after what happened with Marty!"  
  
"Monsieur? Are Libyans from Poland?"  
  
It was the doc's turn to blink. "Say what?"  
  
"If Libyans aren't from Poland, then they aren't responsible."  
  
"Responsible for . . .?"  
  
"Why, your death, or course," Cosette said simply.  
  
"I knew it! I knew that was why you were here! I'll have to- oh no!"  
  
"What's wrong, monsieur?"  
  
The doc began to run his hands through his hair, which Cosette correctly interpreted as a gesture of anxiety. "Have you interacted with anyone else since you arrived in Montreuil-sur-Mer?"  
  
"Well . . . an old man with my father's name and my father with another man's name . . . but that was all. Why?"  
  
"Make sure, Mademoiselle Fauchelevant, that you do not interact with anyone else during the course of your stay. Do you understand? The consequences of that could be disastrous!"  
  
Cosette frowned, trying to think. "What do you mean? Why would it be bad to talk to people?"  
  
Doc Brown seemed rather exasperated. "You could change the course of history! And the course of the novel, which would destroy the musical, which would send the entire world of crazed teenage fans down the tube! They love it for its tragedy, you see. If you change a single thing-"  
  
"Monsieur, may I inquire as to what story you are referring to?"  
  
"I am sorry, my dear, but you wouldn't know of it. And what a dark, dark world that must be. To summarize, there is a great masterpiece where I come from, well-loved, that claims to revolve around fictitious characters. I, out of mere curiosity, used my time machine to travel back and prove that the story was real, if only to myself. And- wait, do you happen to know of a clocktower struck by lightening?"  
  
"Actually, yes. I have a bit of paper here that tells about it." Cosette produced the paper that she had been keeping in the same place she kept Marius's love letter in the real book, but I forgot where that was and am too lazy to check, so use your imagination. "But be careful, monsieur. Marius's-"  
  
"Phone number is on the back, no doubt?"  
  
"What?"  
  
The doc smacked himself in the head, causing Cosette to wince. "Of course! You see, my dear, I've only been in the nineteenth century for a year, and I tend to forget myself." He turned the letter over. "The Gorbeau Tenement? Ah, yes. I would dearly love to go there someday."  
  
Cosette began to tune him out, worrying instead about her empty stomach.  
  
"To see the actual room of the Thénardiers - well, to see the Thénardiers themselves - and Gavroche! I always did love his song."  
  
He began to hum a tune that sound suspiciously to Cosette like "C'est la faut à Voltaire," one of the songs she had heard the horrible Madame . . . Thénardier . . .  
  
"Monsieur! Do you know the Thénardiers?"  
  
"Know them? I've half a mind to rescue you right now and bring you to Fantine, if it wasn't for Valjean."  
  
Cosette's eyes widened. "Who are Fantine and Valjean?"  
  
"My dear," said the doc impatiently, "Fantine is your mother, and Val- oops."  
  
He fell silent.  
  
"My mother's name was Fantine. Fantine," Cosette repeated, trying out the name. "But who is the other you mentioned? Valjean?"  
  
"Did- Did I say Valjean? No, no. I said . . . Mad-lohn. Mad-a-lohn. Madeleine. Your father, the mayor of Mon- oops."  
  
"I already knew that, monsieur. I met him earlier."  
  
Cosette's stomach let out a particularly loud growl.  
  
"Here then," said the doc, handed Cosette a few coins. "Go and get something to eat in town. But don't steal any bread!" He began laughing hysterically.  
  
"Monsieur! I am surprised at you! Laughing at awful thieves!" Cosette scolded.  
  
When this only caused Emmet Brown's hysterical fit to grow worse, Cosette turned on her heel and stalked out of the barn. 


	6. I Hate People Who Smoke In Public

A/N - Yep. This is the chapter where the plot gets a-moving.  
  
Elyse3 - Thanks for reviewing. As you were my only reviewer, you win an all-expenses-paid trip to your living room! So you can watch Family Ties or BTTF and drool over Michael J Fox - NO I AM NOT A FAN GIRL! I have lots of guys on TV I get this way over. (See my user profile)  
  
Disclaimer - I still don't own Back to the Future. Not even on video or DVD! I don't own Les Mis, but I do have a copy of the novel, OLC, OBC, TAC DVD, TAC CD, CSR, Highlights CD, and a few random songs off the Internet.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
It had been snowing for a rather long time. Cosette shivered, as her shoulders were still bare.  
  
She had found a snow-free doorway to sit in near the place where the other Fauchelevant had tried to send her to jail. Across the street, the whores were out again for the evening.  
  
Cosette could not help but watch the ragged blonde woman desperately trying to earn a sou. Men scoffed at her as they hurried past to the group of more attractive women. No one in this area seemed to be decent company.  
  
The blonde woman tried to ignore the sneers of the prettier women and their customers. After a few moments she began to pace back and forth, muttering to herself. Every few minutes she stopped and let out a heart-wrenching cough. Cosette fingered the coins in her pocket, wondering what it would look like if she handed a prostitute money.  
  
With a burst of laughter, the door of the tavern behind Cosette opened. A group of well-dressed gentlemen tramped past her and out into the snow, singing loudly, apparently drunk. One didn't see Cosette and tripped over her, fell face-first into the snow, and cursed loudly.  
  
"Whores go to that side of the street, you ninny!" he was shouting.  
  
One of his friends punched his arm and pointed at the blonde woman, still pacing and muttering.  
  
A man in a blue coat and hat was smoking, being highly fashionable. He sauntered over to one end of the woman's path and waited for her to wander near him.  
  
Cosette had mixed emotions. She wanted the woman to earn a bit of money, but she was not sure she wanted to think about how. She half hoped the smoking gentleman would go away and half hoped he would not.  
  
But when the woman's path took her back toward the man, he blew a cloud of smoke towards her and laughed rudely. The woman ignored him and continued to pace.  
  
The smoking man's friends were also laughing and egging him on. Eager to gain more attention, the man continued this insult for a while, still getting no reaction from the woman.  
  
Cosette felt an inexpressible rage bubbling inside her. She wanted to hurt that man. She wanted to-  
  
The man, finally realizing that the woman would continue to ignore him, smiled at his friends and raised a finger to his lips. He knelt down in the snow, gathered a handful of the wet stuff, and got back to his feet by the time the prostitute had reached his end of her path and turned back around. He suppressed a laugh and dropped all the snow down the woman's back.  
  
Cosette gasped and, unable to control the unfamiliar rage, leapt at the man, clawing his face. The woman was shrieking with fury and trying to empty the snow from her clothing. Cosette's hands were suddenly wet, and she realized that she had drawn blood. In a panic, she relented enough for the man to push her off. She landed hard in the snow, staring at her bloody hands.  
  
The man kicked her in the ribs, but the sickly prostitute threatened him, and he melted into the crowd. The blue-lipped woman knelt next to Cosette. "Oh, mademoiselle, thank you! You should not have done that, you know. That will get you in trouble. You should have let me do it, mademoiselle, for I was prepared to."  
  
The woman paused to cough, and Cosette broke in. "What is your name, madame?"  
  
"My name is Fantine, mademoiselle. Fantine la Blonde. Please, don't call me 'madame.'"  
  
"Fantine?" Cosette asked, wondering why the name was so familiar.  
  
Someone grabbed her shoulder roughly and yanked her to her feet. "You forget your place, prostitute," said an icy voice.  
  
A/N - No, she doesn't say 'It's right here, between you and Jack, because A) she doesn't know who's talking and B) there is no one named Jack in this story. I want some popcorn . . .  
  
Cosette spun around. The man who had grabbed her shoulder glared at her. "Come with me."  
  
"Monsieur, Madame Fantine is sick! She needs a doctor!"  
  
"Madame Fantine?" the angry man asked. "Another whore? Then let her die. One less to throw in jail."  
  
He literally dragged Cosette a part of the way to the police station. When they arrived, he thrust her away from him with such force that she landed in a heap on the floor.  
  
A young policeman rushed in from a back room. "Who is it, Inspector?"  
  
"A whore," said the violent man who had dragged her in. He was now seated behind a desk, filling out paperwork. "She attacked a gentleman."  
  
The younger man laughed. "That's, what, three months?"  
  
"Six," said the Inspector firmly.  
  
"Six months?" Cosette repeated desperately. "But monsieur! I need to be back at Monsieur Brown's house! I need to go back to my home before Marius comes! What if he comes and I am not there?"  
  
The young man laughed. "She's a busy one." To Cosette he said, "Should have thought about them before you jumped on the gentleman, hey?"  
  
Suddenly a quiet voice spoke from the doorway. "Release her, Javert."  
  
"Papa!" Cosette cried, for indeed, the mayor had spoken.  
  
Javert rose to his feet. "Monsieur le maire, this is your daughter?"  
  
The mayor frowned. "No, monsieur l'inspecteur. She is apparently sick. She has been in the snow wearing nothing but this for a long while now."  
  
"And you know this . . . how?" Javert asked, his lip curling.  
  
"I was passing through the square when that man threw a snowball down her back. She was not at fault, Inspector Javert. If you wish to throw someone in jail, find Monsieur Bamatabois."  
  
Cosette blinked. Javert . . . that was the name of the man her father was afraid of. Javert had arrested her mother and Valjean had insisted that he free her. Cosette suddenly leapt to her feet.  
  
"Monsieur Madeleine, you have the wrong woman!" she cried, but even as she did the room began to spin, and Cosette fainted. 


	7. A Lament

A/N - I'm in a bad mood right now. We had to give away my dog after seven years and I'm sad. A lot. I think I'm going to kill a major character.  
  
La Pamplemousse - Okay, you reviewed the last chapter too. /And/ I updated really really fast, which is definitely part of the problem.  
  
Elyse3 - I'm afraid that this chapter was supposed to be much longer, but I felt like stopping, so I did. Maybe I'll be feeling better next time.  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own LM, BTTF, or Duchess. I WANT MY DOG BACK!  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Cosette began to come to. She slowly opened her eyes, and received quite a shock when she did.  
  
An old woman's nose was about two inches away from her face.  
  
She screamed and rolled off the bed, hitting the floor in a tangle of clean sheets and lots of pain.  
  
She caught her breath and looked around.  
  
The first thing Cosette saw was white. Everything was white. The walls were white, the floor was white, and the habit of the shocked nun still leaning over her bed was white. Except for the black part.  
  
The nun cleared her throat. "Mon- monsieur le maire asked that we watch you and make sure you recover. Do you remember? He demanded the Inspector Javert let you free."  
  
Demanded . . . that Inspector Javert . . . let her go free . . .  
  
That sounded so darned familiar. Cosette frowned and scratched her head.  
  
Finally, /finally/ I say, her tiny brain (flame me, I don't care. My dog's gone) let out a long creak and began to function again. Javert! That was the inspector that her father was afraid of. He had been afraid of Javert ever since Cosette's mother, who Doc Brown called Fantine, had been unjustly arrested and her father had demanded she go free.  
  
But her father had demanded that Javert let Cosette go free.  
  
Her mother's name was Fantine.  
  
The sickly prostitute's name was Fantine.  
  
Cosette had been arrested by Javert for attacking the man who had attacked Fantine, who promised she would have attacked the attacker if Cosette hadn't. (Confused yet? You should be. At least /you/ have a dog)  
  
Had Cosette taken her mother's place?  
  
So . . . her mother, a whore, had been attacked by a smoker who she had attacked back and then was arrested by Javert who took her to jail who was then told to set her free by Cosette's father who was then stalked by Javert for all eternity. However, Cosette had attacked the attacker instead and had been dragged off to jail and then set free by her father. (I miss my doggy!)  
  
Cosette frowned even harder. Her rusty little brain let out a squeal of protest as she tried to figure out what I just said.  
  
She gave up. "I want a dog," Cosette said. 


	8. O The Tangled Web We Weave

A/N -Very, very, infinitely sorry for my rants in the last chapter. I've vented, I'm over it now, the dog's probably better off now than she would be were she still here. Those new chaps have a little puppy to keep her company and three acres of land with no neighbors in sight. Again, I apologize for venting during the course of my fic; I'll try not to do it again.  
  
Elyse3 - Again, v. sorry about that rant. But I promise I'm done now.  
  
La Pamplemousse - Sorry about your dog! I know the feeling, kind of. My parents bought a cat four years before I was born, and he lived until I was 11. When he died, it was really odd, because he'd always just been there. Then, a month later, I got a Burman/British Wirehair kitten. He'll never be able to replace the first cat, but it really does help the grieving process . . . wow, 'grieving process' sounds so retarded . . .  
  
Disclaimer - I still don't own LM or BTTF. But I've found it necessary to finally admit it . . . I've become *chokes* a . . . a semi-fangirl over Michael J. Fox . . . there, I said it. And, come to think of it, John Stamos and Rider Strong. Oh my poor, poor individuality.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Cosette's head spun. Her father had rescued her instead of her mother. If Fantine were not in the mayor's care, he would never find out about Cosette. Cosette would grow up with the Thénardier family in Montfermeil . . . or perhaps when her mother died and could no longer pay, the Thénardiers would turn her out into the cold.  
  
Cosette leapt to her feet and scrambled out the door, leaving the poor nun in a state of befuddlement.  
  
The snow from the night before had not yet melted. Heedless of the cold, Cosette rushed into the street, not sure how to find Fantine. Crowds of pedestrians parted around Cosette, who stood unmoving in the road. To her surprise, she saw a familiar figure pushing a broken cart.  
  
"Monsieur! Monsieur Fauchelevant!" she cried, rushing towards the crippled old man.  
  
"Oy? Oh, s'you. Whadda you want now, ey?"  
  
"Can you tell me where I can find Madame Fantine?"  
  
The cripple's face instantly flushed. "I- I dunno what you're talkin' bout, mam'zelle."  
  
"I need to see Madame Fantine as soon as possible. I wondered, monsieur, if you knew where I could find her," Cosette explained patiently, not understanding his reaction.  
  
"Low'r yer voice, ey? Yeah," he said at almost a whisper. "I c'n give you 'er place, but y' best promise th't not a soul - nary a soul - knows where you got th'directions."  
  
"Thank you, monsieur!" Cosette cried, still unaware of the full meaning of this discourse.  
  
A/N - Now, I know you all want to puke really bad, but hey, that's the fun of writing a fic full of lovely ladies, right?  
  
A few moments later, Cosette was standing at the garret door of a slummy little place in the heart of the worst section of Montreuil-sur-Mer. A very pleased Fantine answered her knock.  
  
"Mademoiselle! My rescuer! Come in!" And when the door was fully closed: "L'inspecteur was not too awful to you, was he?"  
  
Cosette did not answer. She was looking about the tiny garret, trying to hide her horror that such a dirty little place could be called a dwelling. Fantine sat on the only piece of furniture in the room, a bed, and motioned Cosette set next to her.  
  
"Mademoiselle, you remind me of someone," Fantine said suddenly.  
  
Cosette studied the face before her. She said nothing, but was sure that Cosette reminded Fantine of her former self, before . . . whatever had happened.  
  
"Madame Fantine?" Cosette began.  
  
"No, no, mademoiselle. Don't call me 'Madame,'" Fantine interrupted. "My child's father left me long ago. He left me before I even knew there was a child."  
  
Cosette blinked. She had been wondering how she could find out what had happened to Fantine and how the Thénardiers had ended up with an extra child. And here Fantine had given her the perfect opportunity.  
  
"You- you have a child?" Cosette stammered, trying to take advantage of the opening.  
  
"Yes. She is a beautiful little girl. Her name is Cosette," Fantine sighed.  
  
Cosette looked at the floor. "Why did her father leave you?"  
  
Fantine, still thinking of her child, looked sharply at Cosette. "What did you say your name was, mademoiselle?"  
  
Cosette had to consciously restrain herself from saying, 'I didn't.' She chewed her lip for a second, and then decided the truth was best.  
  
"Euphrasie."  
  
Fantine gave a cry of delight. "That is my little girl's name!"  
  
"Why, then, do you call her Cosette?"  
  
Fantine smiled. "I don't know. I like the sound of it. It suits her."  
  
"Where is Cosette?"  
  
An hour of so later, Cosette knew the whole story. Fantine related the story of her lover, Tholomyès, and how he had suddenly left her. She spoke of being forced to leave her beautiful little girl with the 'good Thénardiers' and finding work in the factory at Montreuil-sur-Mer. She was fired when /they/ (here Fantine's face had darkened) had found out about her child. Fantine could find no other work, and she was forced to sell her hair, her teeth, and finally herself. The story was interrupted by fits of coughing, which Fantine would always explain away as a tickle in her throat. Cosette said nothing of the bloodstained handkerchief Fantine pressed against her mouth every time she coughed. It was obvious that, without a doctor's care, Fantine would die.  
  
But how could Fantine get to a doctor? No decent man would want to be seen entering this room. If there was somewhere Fantine could go . . . somewhere she would be taken care of . . .  
  
Cosette gasped. An /idea/ had occurred to her.  
  
"Come with me!" she cried. 


	9. Cosette Shows Spine

A/N – Eek! I see Les Mis tomorrow! One Day More! When I get back, I'll post a review of the touring cast on my website – K. Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day.  
  
Freakyfairy- Yay! I have more than two readers!  
  
La Pamplemousse- Aww... that's too sweet. Dogs are great. Cats, I like more, but dogs do a better job of keeping you company.  
  
Elyse3- *still embarrassed of rant* Well, here's another chappie that's on topic. And in this one, Cosette does this cool thing where- *closes mouth firmly*  
  
Disclaimer – I own not the Les Mis. Nor do I own the Back to the Future. However, come Sunday night, I will own a Les Mis ticket stub and a (hopefully) signed program. And a large, large smile on my face.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Monsieur le Maire opened his front door to see his young charge standing in the melting snow with a sickly prostitute leaning on her shoulder. "Monsieur . . . ah . . . Madeleine, this is the woman who had the snow shoved down her back – not me! She is a good woman-"  
  
Fantine blinked dizzily and suddenly recognized the rather confused man who stood before her. "Monsieur le Maire! You call yourself great, but you fired me from your factory when I had to send money to my Cosette! I had no way to get the money! No one would hire me after you let the whole town know about my daughter! I had to sell my hair and my teeth! All I have left to sell is myself, but without front teeth no one wants to take me. I have no money for false teeth, and even if I did I would have to send it to the good Thénardiers! My daughter . . ." Fantine trailed off for a moment.  
  
"Mad-" the mayor began.  
  
"You have degraded me!" she cried suddenly, spat in his face, and fainted in the snow.  
  
Cosette stared, horrified, at the unconscious woman. She guiltily raised her eyes to the mayor's anger.  
  
But her father surprised her.  
  
Père Madeleine slowly wiped his cheek with his sleeve, then knelt in the snow and lifted Fantine in his arms.  
  
"Poor woman," he murmured. "What have I done to your child?"  
  
Something caught Cosette's eye. A familiar figure was hurrying past.  
  
That Inspector Javert still frightened her. What if he had seen Fantine spit on the mayor . . .?  
  
"Follow me, please," the mayor said to Cosette.  
  
They went down the long hall again, entering a room next to the one that Cosette stayed in. This room, however, had several beds.  
  
Père Madeleine laid Fantine on the nearest bed, then turned to leave. Cosette began to follow, then saw the man freeze.  
  
Inspector Javert blocked the door.  
  
[A/N – This was originally to be the end of a chapter, but it's way too short, so I'll stick the next chappie in here too.]  
  
"Monsieur le Maire," Javert said stiffly. "I was passing by when that whore defiled your name, and I got a few men from the station. We will put her safe behind bars for a long while. She won't soon forget her mistake!"  
  
A strange pleasure glowed in Javert's eyes. Seeing this, the hair on the back of Cosette's neck stood up.  
  
The fierce, glittering stare turned away from Fantine at last. Javert nodded and two constables entered the room and started toward the bed.  
  
[A/N – Can anyone identify who that stare belongs to?]  
  
Madeleine blocked their way.  
  
"She is innocent, Inspector Javert."  
  
Cosette looked around frantically. A pair of heavy silver candlesticks sat on the bedside table. Cosette slowly picked one up.  
  
"Step aside, Monsieur le Maire," Javert hissed.  
  
"No, Monsieur l'Inspecteur. Leave my house."  
  
"Step aside!"  
  
One of the constables tried to get past Madeleine again, but the mayor moved to stop him. Javert took advantage of this distraction to advance on the unconscious figure.  
  
Madeleine, struggling now with both constables, did not see this.  
  
Cosette did.  
  
Lifting the heavy silver candlestick with both hands, Cosette swung it around and felt it meet squarely with Javert's skull.  
  
A sickening crunch was followed by a thud as the Inspector's limp body hit the ground.  
  
The struggle on the other side of the room ceased.  
  
Javert lay still.  
  
Madeleine and the constables gaped at Cosette.  
  
She looked at the crimson blood on the edge of the silver candlestick.  
  
Père Madeleine's eye twitched.  
  
The room reeled.  
  
Cosette dropped the candlestick on Javert's stomach and fainted.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
*Gasp!* Is Javvie okay? What did Cosette do? Is this fic almost over? All these questions and many, many more will be answered when I update next time . . . whenever that will be. So review. 


	10. Repercussions

A/N – Soooo, that one got a few interesting responses. I've changed my original storyline a little in case I'm ever bored and decide to write the other stories in the trilogy after I finish this one. Yeah, so here I shall be thanking me reviewers. Arrgh! (Dunno where that came from. I'm pretty hyper cos I just finished seeing LM for the third time! Wheee!)  
  
Elyse3- Yes! And it was awesome! Except the Fantine, who was pooish.  
  
Sweet775- Nope, no death. But I do have a Harry Potter reference in here... I love this bit.  
  
La Pamplemousse- Cosette is cool? That's news to me. No, I'm kidding, I love Cosette too.  
  
Disclaimer – As we know, I don't own Les Mis. Victor Hugo owns Les Mis. I actually don't even own a signed playbill from the show I just saw, seeing how it was too late afterwards for me to try and locate any stage door. I don't own a ticket stub either, cos when I asked for mine, SOMEONE *cough Emma cough* didn't give it to me. Grrrrr! *makes piratey faces and sounds* I need sleep.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Cosette awoke to find that she had been moved to one of the beds. Not quite sure what had happened, Cosette checked to see who else was in the room. In the bed on her right she saw Fantine, a doctor and the mayor bending over her. And in the bed to her left lay Inspector Javert, a white bandage wrapped around his forehead.  
  
Cosette sighed balefully. She had meant to do permanent damage to the inspector. From the look of things, he would be back on his feet in no time.  
  
Monsieur Madeleine heard her sigh and came to her bedside. "Are you feeling better, mademoiselle?"  
  
Cosette nodded. "And Fantine?"  
  
Monsieur Madeleine looked to the doctor, who straightened up and explained the situation. "The woman is very sick. The likelihood of her survival is rather slim. We need her to hold on and fight to survive."  
  
"Her daughter! Monsieur le Maire, could you fetch her daughter, Cosette? She lives for Cosette!"  
  
"Of course... but I do not know where she is."  
  
Cosette sat up. "I do!"  
  
She gave the mayor the best description of the inn at Montfermeil that she could. He left almost immediately, followed by the doctor.  
  
As Cosette was leaning back against the pillows, a movement from her left caught her eye.  
  
Inspector Javert was slowly sitting up, holding his hand to his head. Cosette guiltily noticed that the bandage was stained red in a large spot just above his ear.  
  
She avoided eye contact with him, afraid of his anger.  
  
Cosette waited for the inspector to shout at her.  
  
He said nothing.  
  
Silence.  
  
Cosette finally looked at Javert, and to her surprise, he smiled at her. "Hello there," the Inspector said happily.  
  
Rather confused, Cosette nervously smiled.  
  
"This is an odd sort of place, isn't it?"  
  
Cosette nodded a little.  
  
"So, who are you?"  
  
"Um... Euphrasie... Pontmercy," she lied carefully.  
  
"Excellent! And... who am I?"  
  
Cosette's jaw dropped open.  
  
"Well, that's not very polite, is it?"  
  
No response.  
  
"I mean, I did ask you a question, now didn't I? Oh, look, I just asked two more! Isn't that interesting? Ah, three!"  
  
Javert pushed a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Well, gracious, what's this? It's like I've got an animal on my face, isn't it? Four questions! Do you have a mirror? What are these things, sideburns? Why on earth are my sideburns so huge? Goodness, that's seven questions!"  
  
The doctor came back into the room. "Monsieur l'Inspecteur! How do you feel?" he asked, bowing.  
  
"Oh dear, am I an Inspector? Eight! Well, that explains the sideburns, anyway. I'm actually feeling alright. It's this young lady I'm worried about. Look at her! Is she... is she all here?" Javert asked, pointing at his own bandaged head.  
  
The doctor's eyes widened.  
  
"Nine!" the inspector gasped happily.  
  
The doctor closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again.  
  
Javert smiled.  
  
"I was afraid of this," the doctor said shakily.  
  
Cosette found her voice at last. "Is he... alright?"  
  
"Of course I am, silly! I feel just fine. Well, a little irked, actually. Could someone kindly explain what's going on?"  
  
"I don't think it'll be permanent. His memory should come back eventually. I'm worried about the police in Montreuil-sur-Mer. He won't be able to work for a long time. Maybe some kind soul will let him work for free until he can get back on his feet."  
  
"Ask the mayor when he comes back with Cosette."  
  
"Cosette? That's a rather odd name, isn't it? Oh, that's eleven!"  
  
Cosette left the doctor to deal with Inspector Javert. She climbed out of her bed and knelt by Fantine. "Fantine?"  
  
The woman slowly opened her eyes and smiled. "I knew you were here, mademoiselle. I was asleep, but I saw you were here."  
  
"The mayor has gone to fetch Cosette."  
  
Fantine's face lit up. She smiled her toothless smile and wrapped her arms around Cosette. "Oh! My Cosette, here and with me! I-"  
  
"I'm going to leave, Fantine. The mayor will take care of you."  
  
"The mayor? But-"  
  
"He's a good man," Cosette interrupted. "Trust him. He will bring you Cosette soon. You are very sick, but you need to at least hold on until your daughter arrives."  
  
"My Cosette! Oh, I would hold her in my arms again," Fantine sighed.  
  
Cosette held her mother tightly for a second more, then said farewell for what would be the last time. She had to return to her own time, leaving Fantine in Montreuil-sur-Mer. At least her mother would die happily, her daughter nearby.  
  
Cosette left the mayor's home and again turned toward the cornfield on the edge of town. 


	11. Journey

A/N- This'll be the shortest chapter I've written in anything ever. Except the cast of characters part of Beauty in the Beast. WHOOSH! I went out and bought the entire BTTF trilogy on Wednesday! YAAAHOOOOO! I'm happy! Happy! Happy, happy, happy! Oh, and Emma did give me my ticket stub later on. I shall be thankin' ye, Miss Emma, if ye review me fics! Aye, all o' them.  
  
La Pamplemousse- I know Lockhart. I based a couple of questions on him... Sir Percy? I've heard of him, but I don't think I ever read whatever it was he was in.  
  
Elyse3- I now have ticket stub and am happy. LM is good. (Umm... duh?)  
  
Disclaimer- So, I don't own the most of the characters living here, but I own THREE 'BACK TO THE FUTURE' DVDs! Yes, ALL THREE ARE MINE! MINE, MINE, MINE!  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Cosette found Doctor Emmett Brown leaning against the time machine in the barn, apparently waiting for her.  
  
"So," he asked eagerly, "how'd it go with your mom and pop?"  
  
"My what?"  
  
"Your parents. How'd it go?"  
  
"Oh," Cosette exclaimed. "Yes. I got Madame Fantine to Papa's home and he's gone to get... me."  
  
The doc blinked. "But what about Arras? The trial? Chapmathieu? He shouldn't get you until Christmas!  
  
"I... I don't know about any trial, monsieur. Maybe that's where he's gone."  
  
The doc sighed. "Well, I was thinking about your predicament, and I realized that the lightning bolt is scheduled for tonight! I don't know how we could get all the way to Paris in one night! And then to set up all the wires and things needed to harness the 1.21 jigowatts of power necessary to run the flux capacitor... Cosette, I don't know what to do! You must get back to Paris, 1832, but how? With the DeLorean out of fuel-"  
  
"Monsieur?"  
  
"-which won't be invented until a hundred or so years from now... Great Scott! This is catastrophic!"  
  
"Monsieur?"  
  
"Yes, Cosette?"  
  
"I think your machine can still run."  
  
"What?"  
  
Cosette sighed. "Monsieur, you didn't give me time to explain why I was here. I don't know how to make the machine go! I can't even drive a carriage, monsieur. It's not ladylike, my papa says."  
  
The doc looked rather sheepish. "Oh. Well, if that's all, then..."  
  
Cosette nodded.  
  
"Here's the number of the Gorbeau Tenement," the doc said, handing the flyer about the clock tower to Cosette. "And," he pulled open the door of the DeLorean, "I'll show you what I know about driving."  
  
Within an hour or so, Cosette was seated in the driver's seat of the time machine, waiting for the doc to give a signal to go. She smiled. Doctor Brown was a nice man. It was a shame about those Polish terrorists.  
  
The Polish Terrorists!  
  
Doc Brown gave the thumbs up, and Cosette instinctively pressed the gas pedal. The time circuits flashed up "April 28, 1832" and the location indicator read "Paris."  
  
The car gained speed.  
  
"I forgot all about the Polish terrorists!" Cosette shrieked, but even as the words left her mouth the dial reached fifty.  
  
In a flash of blue light, the car disappeared.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Yes, 'twas short, but HEY! The plot's a-moving. The more reviews I get, the faster I'll update. I promise.  
  
Hey! Review! What's the matter – you chicken?  
  
Muahahahahahahahhaha! 


	12. Deja Vu

A/N- Yeah, the Polish terrorists. I didn't mention them but in the part where they... ya know... shot the Doc. It was in the... third chapter? I think that was it. Yeah. Third chapter. The terrorists shot Doc Brown and Cosette accidentally made the time machine go while trying to get away from them and ended up making it go to fifty, which was the new and improved much slower speed of time travel...  
  
WolfKyr- Doncha just love BTTF? A good movie, recommended by a fan? I'll have to check that out.  
  
La Pamplemousse- Nope... Feuilly wouldn't kill an innocent Doc. Okay, I definitely wanna read/watch the Scarlet Pimpernel now.  
  
Elyse3- Are you less confused now? If not, you get to watch the whole scene again in this chapter.  
  
AmZ- Since she was trying to protect her mother and foster father from Javert's evil-ness. Anyway, he isn't dead.  
  
Disclaimer- I don't actually /own/ Doc Brown, but I do own the dream I had last night where we went back in time and told Michael Jackson not to get plastic surgery or nose jobs and to stay away from little boys.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Cosette and the time machine were back in the familiar streets of Paris, only a few streets away from the Courtyard de Deux Arbres.  
  
After unsuccessfully trying to steer the bulky machine through a narrow alley, Cosette pushed open the door and leapt out into the street. She would be faster on foot.  
  
Doc Brown had set the machine to go back about ten minutes earlier than when Cosette had departed so that, in case it sent her to some obscure part of Paris on the other bank of the Seine, she would have time to get back to her exact place of departure.  
  
When Cosette reached the Courtyard a Polish terrorist was leaning out the door of the blue and white omnibus, holding a gun on Doc Brown and... herself.  
  
The doc pulled a sack out of the time machine and faced the Polish terrorists.  
  
The one with the gun fired, narrowly missing Cosette.  
  
Doc Brown shoved her into the time machine and slammed the door shut behind her. The terrorist shot and missed him again.  
  
The doc opened the sack to show the Polish terrorists that it was full of ammunition.  
  
Sneering, the man with the carbine shot Doc Brown repeatedly in the chest.  
  
"No!" screamed the Cosette inside the time machine as the doc collapsed. "You bad men!"  
  
The Polish terrorist opened fire on the time machine. Cosette saw herself frantically pressing buttons.  
  
The machine began to roll forward. It picked up speed, pursued by the omnibus.  
  
The time machine disappeared in a flash of brilliant light. Momentarily blinded, the terrorists crashed into a tree.  
  
Cosette rushed to the Doc's side and rolled him over on his back. He stared lifelessly at the sky.  
  
Sobbing, Cosette turned away. "Why didn't I remember to warn him?"  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move.  
  
The doc sat up.  
  
Cosette's eyes widened. "You're... you're alive!"  
  
Doc Brown wordlessly pulled open his overcoat to reveal a silver vest.  
  
"That's pretty," Cosette gasped. "How are you alive? They shot you!"  
  
"It's a bulletproof vest," the doc sighed.  
  
"Oh. But how did you know there would be terrorists?"  
  
"I wouldn't steal from foreign terrorists if I didn't have a bulletproof vest on."  
  
Cosette had no idea what he meant. "Neither would I," she agreed.  
  
[A/N- Yes, I know, it was anti-climatic, but just deal with it.]  
  
/\/\/\  
  
The time machine rolled to a stop at 55 Rue Plumet, and Cosette climbed out the passenger door.  
  
"How far ahead are you going, monsieur?" she asked.  
  
The doc shrugged. "About nine years. It's a nice... um... number."  
  
Cosette smiled. "Visit me when you get there."  
  
"You bet."  
  
"I bet... what?"  
  
"Never mind. See you in nine years," Doc Brown sighed.  
  
"Alright." Cosette watched the machine roll backwards down the Rue Plumet, then shoot forward.  
  
With an enormous flash of blue light, the time machine and Doc Brown were gone.  
  
Cosette sneaked back into her room and went to sleep.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Another short chappie! Ah well. Tune in next update for my final chapter in Les Mis Meets Back to the Future: The Fic That Never Found A Better Name. 


	13. 1832?

A/N- This was a relatively quick update cos I have a jillion fic ideas and I can't have too many fics going at once. Thus I end my third fic.  
  
Elyse3- Brilliant? Ooh... I've never been called that before. Thank you muchly, and thanks for reading da fic.  
  
La Pamplemousse- .../not/ old? It IS madness. The book is now on my "to buy and read" list, along with this book I found by Hugo about the last days of a condemned man... Hey, it's Hugo. Plot bunny? Ooh... what is in store for us?  
  
And, everyone, go to the Lord of the Rings category and check out my insane fic, LEGEO & GIMLIET! Be afraid. Be very afraid.  
  
Disclaimer- I'll do a proper disclaimer, for old times' sake. I don't own Back to the Future, Doc Brown, or a DeLorean. I don't own Cosette, Valjean, Fantine, Toussaint, Marius, Javert, Bamatabois, Fauchelevant, or anyone I've left out. *sniffs* Goodbye, my fic.  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
When Cosette awoke, a light was filtering through the window. She leapt to her feet, ready to rush downstairs for breakfast, when she noticed the flyer about the clock tower on her floor. She picked it up and read the writing on the back:  
  
"Je t'aime! 50-52"  
  
She and Marius would have to keep their relationship a secret from her overprotective father. The poor man: living all his life in fear of that awful Javert. Cosette finally understood.  
  
She skipped down the stairs to the table. Only Toussaint was home.  
  
"Toussaint!" Cosette noticed a string of pearls around the woman's neck. "What are you wearing?"  
  
"The p-pearls your father g-gave me months ago, mademoiselle," Toussaint replied.  
  
Cosette blinked.  
  
Someone knocked on the door, and Toussaint rushed to answer it. Cosette, having nothing better to do, followed.  
  
When Toussaint pulled the door opened, Cosette stifled a scream. Javert stood at the door.  
  
"Good morning, Toussaint," he said pleasantly, nodding. "I brought Monsieur Valjean's carriage from the blacksmith's. The wheel is fixed. Valjean... every time I say monsieur's name I feel as if I should know it from somewhere else."  
  
Toussaint, who had immediately flushed at the sight of Javert, giggled and fingered her pearls.  
  
Cosette staggered back into the kitchen. There was no mistaking the sideburns and rigid posture... but how could that be Javert?  
  
The back door opened and Cosette's father entered, speaking over his shoulder to someone who was still out in the garden. "We, ma chere, you certainly seemed to enjoy the sunrise this morning."  
  
"The colors, Jean! It was just beautiful!" responded a voice that Cosette recognized but could not quite place.  
  
What had shocked her was the sight of her father. His hair was no longer white, but the same dark color it had been nine years ago, graying at the temples. "Papa!" Cosette cried.  
  
"What's the matter with Cosette?" asked the voice from the garden.  
  
Fauchelevant, who currently looked more like Madeleine, stepped aside. Cosette gasped.  
  
Fantine stood behind him, stood behind him, rosy-cheeked and healthy. Her blonde hair had grown back down to her waist, and she apparently wore false front teeth, for the gap could not be seen. She approached Cosette worriedly.  
  
"M-Madame Valjean?" came Toussaint's voice from the hallway. "Is everything alright?"  
  
"Valjean?" Cosette was confused.  
  
"Of course, ma fille. You remember. Jean began using his true name after the angel came," Fantine explained.  
  
"An angel?"  
  
"In Montreuil-sur-Mer. The one who brought Fantine to me and then... helped... Javert so that I could bring you back from the tavern. We've told you this story before, Cosette," her father chimed in.  
  
"Isn't this the big day?" Fantine interrupted.  
  
"What? What, Maman?"  
  
She put her hands to her hips in mock frustration. "You promised us that you would introduce us to your Marius today."  
  
"But... but Papa, you said-"  
  
"M-mademoiselle, there us a young m-man at the door who wishes to s-speak with you," Toussaint called.  
  
Cosette looked pleadingly at her father.  
  
"Well, go on," he urged her.  
  
/\/\/\  
  
Marius took her hand in his. "Cosette..."  
  
She smiled. "I have dreamed of this. Just you and me-"  
  
Marius raised an eyebrow. "We've been alone together quite a lot. Are you feeling alright?"  
  
Cosette turned to face her home. Valjean sat in the garden with his arm around Fantine's shoulders.  
  
"Everything is wonderful," she said firmly. "Just wonderful."  
  
Valjean and Fantine noticed the other couple looking at them, waved, and went back into the house.  
  
Suddenly Marius was leaning toward her... his breath on her face...  
  
There was a flash of light in the alley, and the time machine pulled up by the open garden gate. The doc leapt out.  
  
"Monsieur?" Cosette gasped.  
  
"Come with me!" he shouted back.  
  
"But monsieur, Fantine is alive, Marius is here, and-"  
  
"Bring Marius along! It concerns him too!"  
  
"Why?" Cosette asked desperately. "What happens to us in the future?" She lowered her voice. "Do we become... robbers or something?"  
  
"No, no, both you and Marius turn out fine. It's your children! Something has got to be done about your children!"  
  
He shoved them into the passenger seat of the time machine, backed the car up, and shot forward.  
  
They disappeared in a flash of blue light.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\  
  
Actually, I may not continue, depending on how many other fics I end up writing. If you ever see LM Meets BTTF Part II, you'll know it's me. Otherwise, it's been great writing this fic, I love your reviews, now GO READ MY OTHER STUFF! 


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